


Iconoclasts

by Woad



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Civil War II (Marvel), Emotional Manipulation, Evil Steve Rogers, Gore, Hero Worship, Hydra Steve Rogers, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Sacrificing Tony Stark, Unhappy Ending, alternate end to CW II #7, scene sequel: that ugly rooftop conversation in the Cap comics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8658175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woad/pseuds/Woad
Summary: Tony has seen Steve bleed out on sandstone steps before. He's watched the footage of the courthouse shooting hundreds of times. And there is no way in hell that he's going to let Steve die on his watch again.





	

"Time for me to get going," says Steve, his eyes fixed on the live feed of Spiderman on the Capitol steps. His jaw is set in what the media always characterizes as determined bravery. But after this long, Tony recognizes the mule-headedness in it. With Steve it's always a little of both.  
  
"You’re sure about this?" He asks. It feels strange for Tony to be the leader of the resistance, standing in Steve's shoes this time around. A momentary wave of terror hits Tony that he may be sending Steve out there to die for the cause.  
  
After all, Tony has seen Steve bleed out on sandstone steps before. He's watched the footage of the courthouse shooting hundreds of times. He has the luxury of not remembering what was going through his head at the time, why he didn’t assign Steve a better security detail. But that also means that he tends to believe the majority opinion, which is that the blame for Steve’s shooting falls square on his shoulders.  
  
Beside him, Steve straightens up and adjusts the straps of the shield, mentally and physically preparing himself. "Of course. Do you want me to give the Fear Itself speech?"

“I’m sure I’d go all tingly hearing that, but no.”

And then he feels Steve’s heavy hand on his shoulder. “Tony, about what I said on the roof--”

Tony’s heart lurches because what Steve said still hurts. The memory of it makes Tony mad, though he's not entirely sure with whom. Steve’s words carry too much truth about Tony’s past sins to be dismissed, and Tony's anger reflects back on himself, as if Steve has a rhetorical shield just as potent as the one made of vibranium.

_You never forget the signs._

_When was your last drink?_

Dozens of replies had filtered through his mind as he took off from the rooftop, taking a circuitous route home, a long night flight to clear his head. But each one he'd discarded: _too defensive, too petty_. Tony has, after all, been on both sides of an intervention. He knows how easy it is to be dismissive about loved one’s concerns--how blind he used to be to his own behavior. If the people who love you can't hold you accountable, then who?

But even in the worst of times, Tony can't remember Steve questioning his sobriety. Not outright like he did on the roof, anyway. The lack of faith is crippling, especially now when, for once, they're standing shoulder to shoulder.

Tony doesn't think Steve will ever understand just how much it tears him apart to be compared to Steve’s abusive, drunk of a father. He’ll never understand how small Tony feels standing beside a man who escaped the cycle. Steve is proof that Tony could be a better man; that when he fails, Tony can't rail against his father or genetics. The fault is with him.

Steve is the paragon that Tony always falls short of.

Lately that's taken the form of obsessing over the way he treated Ms. Marvel and Nova when the Vision was corrupted by Kang. He knows Steve would have handled it better than he did. Tony nearly lost his whole team because he wouldn't listen to the youngest Avengers.

And now that the third of the teenage trio is facing unlawful detainment, Tony feels a deep responsibility to stick by him, even as he worries that that won't be enough.

Because it sure wasn't enough for Bruce.

“Tony?”

Tony blinks, looking up at Steve again.

"If Carol and her cavalry arrive, can I count on you to be there as backup?” Steve sounds like he's repeating the question. And the fact that he even has to ask is like a sharp knife between Tony's ribs.

Tony chokes back his resentment and hurt. This isn't about him. This is about proving the visions wrong. This is about keeping Steve alive. And there is no way in hell that he's going to let Steve die on his watch again.

“Of course, Steve.”

#

Carol reaches out for Spiderman, trying to take the kid into custody before he's done anything more than loiter on the Capitol steps.

The zero-point energy bubble simultaneously stops and infuriates her.

Tony has taken up a cloaked surveillance position, several hundred feet up in the air, hovering next to the Spirit of Freedom’s statue. As he watches the unraveling situation, Tony can't help marveling at the irony: an attack on the presumption of innocence, here in the shadow of Liberty’s icon.

And what turns this into tragedy is how unlikely it all is. Without a catalyst, nothing would come to pass here. Neither Steve nor Spiderman have any motive to attack one another. They’re both good heroes, through and through. The visions are the catalyst. _Carol_ is the catalyst. This is the quantum uncertainty principle made macro. Carol’s a smart woman, Tony is sure she grasps this--what’s infuriating is that she doesn't _care_.

“Cap, whatever you're doing, drop it. I’m trying to keep you all safe!” Carol shouts, turning on Steve. One of her hands stays on the red, translucent energy bubble, and her fingertips begin to glow, trying to absorb it. Her other hand burns bright in warning.

“Then leave.” Tony replies, letting the cloaking field dissipate and dropping his suit into a sharp descent to intercept her attack. “Let them talk it out like reasonable adults.”

“Tony.” Carol's voice seethes. “Of course you're here.”

He knows when she catches sight of him, because her energy powers flare violently.

Tony chose the War Machine style suit because it favors artillery based weapons. The energy-heavy offensive he usually favors is at a disadvantage against Carol, so he’s worn it, despite knowing what Carol would read into the black and silver paint job.

She lets loose the gold energy she's been gathering in her hand, and it shoots up toward Tony in a bright burst, forcing him to veer left sharply. In return, he fires a concussive missile, which misses and craters into the sandstone steps. Tony leaves another crater where he lands, the change in angle causing him to make impact with greater momentum than he intended.

“You can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” Carol says, brimming with righteous fury. “Last chance: stand down.”

Tony ignores her. “Cap, may be a good time for you and Spiderman to clear out.”

Steve makes a dive for the fading glow of the bubble and Spiderman.

Sensing that she might still get an opening to take Spiderman, Carol wheels around and three things happen in close succession: Tony fires another missile at Carol, Carol fires on Steve, and Steve deflects her shot.

Tony’s missile is a small, fast projectile meant to draw her attention rather than to do much damage. Carol’s blast is big and wide, no doubt meant to keep Steve and Spiderman away from each other. Steve’s jaw is set again in that stubborn way, and he doesn’t shy away from Carol’s blast.

As Carol’s blast comes ricocheting back, it collides point blank with the missile and the concussive explosion leaves Tony’s ears ringing, even inside the protective suit.

Tony looks around at the destruction they’ve wrought--a beautiful landmark reduced to a twisted warzone. They've torn a deep trench into where brick and sandstone used to be. Spiderman has Steve in one arm, behind him a sea of police, in front of him the trench. He takes aim with his webshooters at the dome of the Capitol, but his feet and Steve’s have barely left the ground before Carol is in pursuit.

None of them see what Tony sees, which is that the twisted rubble of the steps is a perfect image of what they all saw in the vision--the protective bollards are now warped into deadly slag thorns.

Carol is faster than Spiderman, and she grabs the silken strand keeping him and Steve aloft. No doubt she means to break it and carry them dangling back to holding cells. But the material is stronger than she anticipates. It doesn’t break. Instead the force of her pull causes Spiderman and Steve to swing sharply upward before gravity intervenes and reverses their momentum, back toward the way they came.

Tony sees Spiderman’s surprise and his grip on Steve first falter then fail. The suit calculates and confirms his worst fears about Steve’s trajectory. One of the twisted bollards will be directly beneath him.

Tony puts everything that he has into the thrusters. The only thing he can think is: _no, no, no, this can’t happen again._

There’s not enough space for the fall; Tony doesn’t have enough time to catch Steve. Steve is tough. He’ll survive the impact with the ground, but he won’t survive impalement. All Tony can do his knock him to safety, inches from making contact.

Tony isn’t as lucky.

The angle of the metal pole pierces the suit just below his navel. His momentum carries him forward, ripping a deep gash down to his inner left thigh.

He hits the ground in agony, unable to even breathe. His lower left side is warm and wet and as his vision goes gray and fuzzy around the edges he sees a pool of red rapidly forming beneath him.

“Tony!” He hears Steve calling his name, as though very far away. But that can't be because Steve’s hand is back on Tony's shoulder, urging him to focus on Steve.

Steve who is wonderfully, gloriously unhurt.

Steve kneels down to cradle his head, one hand searching out the wound to try and staunch the blood. Tony can't work his tongue enough to tell him it's pointless. He knows what’s coming next.

He doesn't regret it though. It's worth it to see Steve alive and whole. And he realizes he's crying, fueled by a strange mixture of pain and relief.

Tony feels himself slipping away, too choked on pain to say anything--and there are many things he never made the time to tell Steve. That he’s sorry. That if he hasn't seemed to be himself, then maybe it's because he was trying to be more like Steve--to be a better man.

More like the man he loves.

Steve holds him, and Tony thinks that this is enough, far more than he's ever deserved from the other man.

Tony trembles as he fights to stay conscious, and Steve can see how much he’s struggling. The other man leans closer, inches away from Tony, and for a wild moment he thinks Steve might kiss him goodbye.

But instead Steve smiles. It's a wicked, triumphant grin, totally alien on his face.

“Thank you for playing the perfect martyr,” Steve says.

And Tony fades, horrified, wondering what he just saved.


End file.
